


Boxed Games

by Weesageechak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Asshole Theo, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Manipulation, No Plot/Plotless, Panic Attacks, Porn, Psychopath Theo Raeken, Rough Sex, Trapped, almost psychopath that is, minimal setting, sometime after season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weesageechak/pseuds/Weesageechak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While tracking a warlock with their respective packs, Stiles and Theo end up trapped in a room underground.<br/>Together.<br/>Stiles wants to get the hell out of there.<br/>Theo wants Stiles.<br/>It just works.</p><p>(or: the ff-equivalent of the cheapest, clumsiest, most plotless kind of low-budget porn)<br/>(or: the ff-equivalent of Waiting for Godot – If Waiting for Godot were the cheapest, clumsiest etc. ...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxed Games

**Author's Note:**

> For all you fellow Steo lovers out there <3 <3 <3  
> Sterek is eternal, but Steo - it just happens, okay?
> 
> warning: since Theo is involved there is some dubious consent on Stiles' side - the rape tag is there for a reason

 

 

 

“Are you kidding me, are you _fucking kidding me_?!”

Stiles is rubbing his hands, muttering curses under his breath.

From the look on his face you can tell that he regrets banging his fists against a solid steel door.

Repeatedly, yeah.

But then again, no one ever said Stiles was the rational type.

“You stupid fucking, cock-sucking piece of – _shit_....”

A loud clonk, then another one.

Now Stiles is kicking the door, but the door wouldn’t move an inch.

Of course it wouldn’t.

Theo takes in a deep breath.

“It’s steel,” he says, but is cut off by another, “ _Ow_ , FUCK!”

“Don’t bother, Stiles. Nothing that you can do could even make a dent. Well, if we had the _key_...”

Stiles, however, much to Theo’s annoyance doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s just standing there, tall and lanky and facing the door, his shoulders slouching a little because he has half-given up already, yes, but not quite.

Not quite.

He’s staring at the small slit on the right-hand side of the door, about at waist height, just where the handle would be – a key hole, a rather complex looking one.

Sure thing.

Big ass door, complex ass key.

That’s how it works.

Of course Stiles doesn’t have a key, nor does he have anything that could be fashioned into a key.

He already tried, and he’s staring at the key hole now, as if thinking about it again.

Like going _There has to be something_ , in his head over and over again.

After a few more moments he pivots on his heel and he’s got that look on his face.

The one that he always gets when something just – hit him. A brilliant idea, an epiphany.

“I think we should be able to manipulate it somehow. Since there is a key hole on this side, this room was never meant to be a prison. You’re supposed to unlock it and let yourself out. There has to be – like a safety mechanism or something. In case you don’t have the key.”

“Maybe the key hole is there to mock whoever is trapped in here,” Theo gives back. “You know, like: look, you’d get out of here, if you just had the key.... you don’t? Oh, well, that’s a pity. Then I guess you’ll have to starve in here.”

“We’d die of thirst first,” Stiles says back dryly. “And I don’t think that’s what the keyhole is for. Plus, huge heavy-ass doors like that don’t just operate by magic. If we look closely enough, we should be able to detect – something. Some kind of hint on how it’s supposed to work. The room’s brightly lit at least...”

And, narrowing his eyes, “So – that’s your cue, your one chance to not be a complete waste of space. Giddy-up, were-jerk.”

Theo snorts out a laugh.

“Did you just say, giddy-up...”

“It did the job, didn’t it,” Stiles says back coldly and with a side glance at Theo who is now next to him, lined up at the door.

“So you’re eighty.”

Theo smirks at the door’s smooth, silver surface that throws back a warped image of his own, handsome face.

“I’d like to savor the idea of one day actually _turning_ eighty, the chances of which grow more and more dim the longer we are locked in this _fucking hellhole_ ,” Stiles grits out and Theo turns his head to look him in the eyes.

“You’re not one to deal well with stress, are you, Stiles?”

“I don’t want to _fucking die in here_.”

“Calm down,” and Theo’s eyes wander back to the door, grazing Stiles’ form, his messy brown hair, cheek bones, upturned nose and long lashes, only in passing. “You’re not going to die in here. None of us is.”

“Oh, awesome. And what do you suggest then?” Stiles voice is all but dripping with sarcasm. “That we, oh, I don’t know, _vaporize_ and float through the air vent in the ceiling?”

Theo smirks, but doesn’t respond. He puts his hands into the pockets of his grey sweater.

“Or, I could hit your stupid face against this _fucking_ door, since you’re oh so strong that should leave a _dent_ at least...”

Theo’s lips curl upward into a real smile.

He shakes his head silently.

So Stiles did hear him earlier.

Of course he did.

He was just being a little shit, as always.

Theo lets out a soft, “Hm,” and then turns his head and presses his ear to the cool surface.

That seems to shut Stiles up – a sign of how hopeless he really is, that Theo’s supernatural senses are his only hope now – because he just stands there, watching Theo intently.

Then it’s just a long, drawn silence of listening, waiting.

Waiting for – a sound.

Any sound.

“So?” Stiles finally pipes up. He’s shifting from one foot to the other, but even if Theo closed his eyes, blocked out the cruelly bright neon lights, he could tell the exact level of Stiles’ agitation.

“What is it, what do you hear?,” and then, a little hopeful, “Are they coming to get us?”

Theo closes his eyes, inhales deeply, then exhales slowly and evenly to minimize the sounds his own breath makes in his ears.

“No,” he simply says after a few moments.

Lifts his ear carefully from the smooth surface.

Then turns to face Stiles’ open disappointment which.

Yes, almost heartbreaking.

Ha.

 _If_ he had a heart that is.

“So... no, there’s no one there... yet?” There’s something like hope in Stiles’ voice.

“No, I can’t hear a thing. There’s no sound beyond that door. Nothing comes in here and-”

“-and nothing goes out,” Stiles says and his voice is flat all of a sudden, tired. “I get it.”

He bends down and for a second Theo is convinced that Stiles is now inspecting every inch of the floor, that he will proceed to sweep those long fingers over his over the concrete to find a fissure, anything.

But Stiles just settled down on the cold floor and there he remains, unmoving, legs crossed, shoulders slouching, whole upper body bent over and elbows resting on his legs. Face buried in his hands.

Interesting.

Peculiar.

So he’d rather face the darkness of his own eyelids than the solid surface of the steel door or the concrete walls.

Not something Theo can relate to, that’s for sure.

He knows he should leave him alone for a couple of minutes, too.

Let him think – maybe come to terms with the situation.

Adjust, you know?

Before they can return to think of possible ways out of here again.

So, yeah.

He should wait and see whether Stiles can come up with another one of his ideas which – Theo has to admit, Stiles does have his moments, yes?

He can be – yeah, resilient, versatile, sort of.

Theo smirks at his own, dark reflection on the door.

How oddly fitting.

Since all they’re gonna find in here is themselves, see?

Endlessly.

Then he turns to Stiles who seems to have sunk into a deep reverie – except he’s trembling, Theo can sense his shoulders vibrate, his whole body work itself into one of his panic attacks and he frowns.

“So... any ideas?”

No response.

“If you ask me, I’d say we wait,” and he takes a few steps back from the door and toward the middle of the room. “We were lured in here – and my pack will find whoever is behind this and eliminate them.”

No reaction from Stiles, only his irregular breathing.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Theo frowns.

“I said, it’s only-”

“ _I heard you_.”

Stiles’ head snaps up from his hands.

“Can you shut the fuck up for a minute?”

Theo’s lips curl into a smirk, but then he does, he does shut up.

Steps up to Stiles and sinks down next to him which prompts no reaction from Stiles.

Theo can tell that Stiles is having a major panic attack and he waits it out, sweeps his gaze across the concrete floor bathed in neon light that looks like someone swept a broom through here not too long ago.

The way down here was dark, moist and smelled nasty.

In here though?

Speckless.

A smile ghosts over Theo’s face.

Stiles’ heart rate is slowing down finally. Incredible, the huge panic attacks that would rock this slender body and yet, so used to them, but still frozen on the inside, Stiles wouldn’t say a thing, just be terrified – and silent.

Like right now.

Then it’s over and Stiles starts moving, loosens the grip on his trousers and swallows.

“The door slammed – shut, and – the room lit up, as soon as we stepped in here...,” he starts, hoarsely.

Theo nods as if they were just continuing their conversation from before.

“... so someone set this up.”

“Evidently.”

“Someone knew we were coming for them, that both packs, yours and Scott’s were looking for the source of the killings, and that we’d track it and it would lead us here, so – they – _it_ set up a trap.”

“Seems like it.”

“So – there’s more than one – right? There has to be more than one of them.”

“Yes, so it would seem.”

Stiles turns his head, his brown eyes meet Theo’s steel blue ones.

“Can you snap out of your trademark jerk-mode for one second and take this situation seriously?”

“I’m taking it seriously,” Theo gives back, raising his eyebrows. “And there’s no reason to be so pessimistic. We got in,” and he shrugs, “We get out again. It’s as easy as that.”

But Stiles is shaking his head, no.

No, of course it’s not as easy as that, but this time, he doesn’t even deem Theo worthy of an explanation.

As if Theo simply couldn’t get it which.

It irritates him, yes?

He won’t have it, so he says, “Yes, Stiles. It’s as easy as that. Trust me.”

Of course that would provoke an answer from Stiles.

He knew it would.

“Trust _you_?” Stiles snaps and all the life returns to his eyes and they’re no longer dead and flat, but burning with outrage. “You’re _kidding_ , right? You couldn’t _possibly_ be that _dumb_.”

“I know we’ve had our – _differences_ -”

“Differences? You’re a lying, manipulating piece of sh-”

“...differences, but we have to work together on this. That’s what I told Scott and it’s what I’m telling you now.”

A derisive snort from Stiles.

“Besides. We’re both in this together. You have no choice but to trust me.”

And there’s a glint in his eyes as he says this.

“We’re in this together, and we-”

“I fucking _know_ where we are,” Stiles interrupts him. “ _Fuck_.”

And he buries his face in his hands again and Theo knows that he’s just barely biting back the words. That have settled on this small, square and brightly lit room like a pall.

What he’s really thinking.

_We’re never getting out of here again._

But Theo – he knows there’s always a way out.

He also knows that Tracy and Josh are looking for them, and even if his own pack stops looking, Scott never will.

“We’re getting out of here again,” he says and there’s an edge to his voice, a roughness almost. “I promise. Okay?”

Stiles looks up from his hands – they’re trembling again – meets Theo’s gaze and frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

It’s clear that he wants to believe Theo – yet, he also really dislikes him.

And then there’s that door of solid steel.

Solid –

“Wait a second,” Stiles suddenly says and he picks himself up, then stands in front of the door again, a little stiff from sitting on the hard floor. “I read about this yesterday – there’s always a mechanism up there, above the door, in case it shuts and you don’t have a key. Maybe this really was an accident, maybe-”

“-maybe no one set this up after all,” Theo says, slowly, frowning. He’s getting up, too while Stiles is already pacing up and down in front of the door. There’s not much room to pace, so he’s making two strides in one direction, then turns.

Then, two steps back again, eyes always on a spot right above the door frame that’s steel, just like the door itself.

“Exactly. What if it works like a trap door – no one operates it, it’s just a mechanism that is set off when someone... when.... someone....” and he slowly turns to Theo, open-mouthed.

“You mean when someone activates the mechanism from outside?”

Stiles’ face goes from vacant to irritated within a split second.

“No, you idiot.”

“Then, what...”

“Never mind that. Help me up. I can’t reach it.”

Theo’s still standing there, rooted in place, frowning at Stiles who’s motioning for him to _move already_.

“Alright, but I can’t see or sense anything up there...”

Stiles rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“Because you’re not _supposed_ to, dumbass. It’s a _hidden_ mechanism because it’s hidden. Come on.”

“You want me to lift you up there?”

“Yes, and today if you don’t mind, I can basically feel grey hair growing on my _woah!_ ”

Stiles of course meant for Theo to fold his hands so he can give Stiles a boost, but Theo just wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and hoisted him into the air.

“ _Holy sh_ -”

“Like this?”

“Well, not exactly, but okay, okay,” Stiles says, arms flailing, and then, despite himself, holding on to Theo’s shoulders for balance. “It’s working.”

“Alright then.”

There is a pause during which Stiles inspects the upper edge of the steel door.

“Find anything?”

“Not yet, but as I said, it’s a hidden mechanism, I just have to- hey, steady,” because Theo made a short step to the right.

Theo bites back a comment at how _he’s_ the one doing all the work here and another pause ensues.

It’s only broken when Theo suddenly says, “You smell nice.”

For a second, Stiles doesn’t move.

Then, suddenly, he is wriggling out of Theo’s grip – which of course makes them both lose balance. Theo stumbles backwards and then they hit the concrete floor hard.

That is, Theo hits the concrete floor hard.

Stiles lands smoothly and softly on top of him because Theo wrapped his arms around Stiles’ upper body tightly to break his fall, is holding him close.

For a moment there, Stiles is too disoriented and confused to say anything.

“It’s real easy to unsettle you, mh...”

Theo is saying the words to Stiles’ hoodie, into the purple fabric because he’s still holding him tightly and he can tell that Stiles is utterly confused.

His heart is beating frantically which –

Be that out of surprise or something else, Theo would have been disappointed had it been otherwise.

And Theo will not be disappointed.

“What the literal fuck, man,” Stiles grits out, “what was that supposed to be? And get _off_ of me.”

Slowly, very reluctantly, Theo is loosening his grip. When he finally removes his hands he brushes Stiles’ sides lightly and he can tell how much it confuses him.

The softness of the touch.

So much so that he doesn’t even comment on it, just stumbles away from him on all fours, eyeing him warily as if – as _if_ –

As if he’d finally caught on to it.

Which of course he hasn’t.

Theo lets out a chuckle and sits up slowly.

“I meant it, Stiles. You do smell good.”

A frown from Stiles, nothing more.

Theo raises his eyebrows at him.

“I _told_ you, I came back for you as well.”

Stiles is just looking at him which prompts another soft laugh from Theo.

“God, Stiles... you’re so smart, but you haven’t understood a thing. And now we’re trapped in this fucking dump. At least... I ended up here _with you_.”

The stare he’s now getting is different, somehow more open-mouthed, wide-eyed.

“It was a _joke_ ,” Theo says, rolling his eyes. “Man, you can be so fucking gullible... I don’t _care_ if you live or die – we don’t have to be friends to work together. Just use that brain of yours to get us out of here. I’ll try this time.”

He jumps to his feet, moving swiftly and smoothly again all of a sudden.

“What?,” Theo adds because Stiles is still just sitting there, eyeing him warily, “Get me up there already. I have better eyesight than a human like you could ever have and, besides,” with a smirk, looking Stiles up and down, “you should be the one lifting me. You’re taller and heavier than me.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at that.

“Fine. Taller.”

Stiles reluctantly steps up to him again, as if not sure what just happened, but they’re still trapped in here and, from all they know, left to die, so his will to survive seems to defeat Stiles’ mistrust in Theo, not to mention the fact that he loathes the guy.

He folds his hands.

Theo steps out of his shoes and, in one swift movement, places his right foot in Stiles’ palms.

When Stiles lifts him up, Theo puts his left hand on Stiles’ shoulder while his right is reaching up, feeling the smooth surface above the door, searching it for a fissure or a hole, anything that would hint at a hidden mechanism.

“How you doin’ down there?”

“Just shut up and hurry,” Stiles grits out.

“Just so you know, this is pure muscle.”

“God, just shut the fuck up.”

Theo smirks which Stiles of course can’t see, but he does shut up.

Soon Theo can feel Stiles’ arms trembling. He won’t be able to hold him up much longer.

“I got it! There’s something here!”

Theo lets his eyes glow and the wolfish claws of his right hand spring out of his middle and index fingers so he can insert them into the smallest of fissures that he detected with his supernatural senses.

“Tss, warlock my ass.... this guy’s no different from the Dread Doctors. He doesn’t work with magic, he works with – with mechanisms and cybernautics.”

“You – mean _cybernetics_ ,” Stiles grits out, struggling under Theo’s weight.

“Whatever.”

“Idiot.”

“Ha!” Theo exclaims. He managed to push his claws into the wall and widen the crack. “There!”

He works his claws in more, and then a little more. There is a faint, distant click.

“Hurry, I can’t – hold you- up any longer-”

“Stiles, stop moving around, you have to-”

But that’s the moment Stiles’ arms give out. Theo uses his supernatural reflexes to simply jump away from him and avoid collapsing on top of Stiles, but Stiles, clumsy as ever, still topples over backwards and hits his head on the concrete floor.

“Fuck, Stiles!”

Theo darts over to him.

“Ow, goddamn-”

“Don’t move.”

He kneels down next to Stiles and carefully lifts his head up from the concrete. Stiles doesn’t even protest, just lets it happen. He must have hit the ground really hard.

“You’re a catastrophe Stiles. How did you manage to survive these past two years in the midst of werewolves? Mh?”

“Shut.... ow-” A lot less defiant than usual.

Theo moves his fingers through Stiles’ hair, feels his skull with his fingertips, listens to his heartbeat.

Then lets out a sigh of relief.

He’s fine.

“Does it hurt here?”

Stiles grimaces. He looks like he wants to sit up, but Theo effortlessly holds him in place with his left hand, his right still cradling Stiles’ head.

“You shouldn’t get up now. You have a light concussion. Besides,” and he flicks his eyes down to Stiles’ hoodie. The purple fabric is sprinkled with dark red droplets.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Stiles’ hand shoots up to his face, he fingers his nose clumsily, muttering curses under his breath.

“Here.”

Stiles turns his head on the concrete where Theo gently put it down and blinks in confusion at the piece of cloth that is being shoved into his face.

“My sweater. I don’t have a tissue.”

Stiles stares down at the grey hoodie, then up at Theo.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake....”

Theo swiftly wraps his arm around Stile’s wrist and pulls his hand away from his nose. Then he unceremoniously presses the sweater up against Stiles’ nose to stop the bleeding.

Stiles just blinks at him, but rises his hand almost mechanically to clutch the sweater.

“Before you dropped me,” Theo starts and he’s still kneeling next to Stiles, “I think I found something up there – like a – like a tiny door or something – and I think I can open it. I just need a little more time up there.”

Stiles lets his head sink back onto the concrete and closes his eyes, hand with Theo’s sweater pressed against the lower half of his face.

“Seems like you were right. Seems like there is some kind of emergency mechanism hidden above the door to open it.”

And then, bent over Stiles who opens his eyes again to be met with Theo’s face close up to his, “See? We won’t die in the warlord’s maze.”

“Weefrlrgg.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Stiles removes the sweater that leaves behind a bloody trail on his chin and cheek.

“Warlock, dumbass. Like a – magician.”

Theo shrugs.

“Whatever.”

He grins down at Stiles.

“You know... I like your face bloodied and kinda strained. Gives you a certain – something.”

Stiles grimaces and sits up slowly and with a grown, rubbing the back of his head. Then he wipes his cheeks and chin with Theo’s grey sweater and continues to press it onto his nose.

Talks around it.

“I think the Dread Doctors loosened too many screws up there.”

Theo snorts out a laugh.

“What, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You’re a disgusting little eel,” Stiles gives back, voice muffled by the sweater, eyes narrowed, “You make _everyone_ uncomfortable.”

Theo raises his eyebrows. He’s still kneeling on the concrete, just a foot away from where Stiles is slowly pulling himself to a sitting position.

“Apparently not enough for you to abhor my sweater. Smells like me, too. Like it?”

Theo’s lips curl into a mischievous grin and Stiles quickly drops the sweater, glowering at him.

But he has nothing to say to that which – of course Theo cannot let that slide.

“I caught you looking, you know.”

A grimace appears on Stiles’ face, a mixture between irritation and confusion.

“What?”

“Looking – at me, I mean.”

“What the fuck are you talking – you know what? I don’t even care. Just shut up and try again. We have to get this door open.”

He struggles to his feet, sways a little, then apparently decides that he’s good and steps up to the steel door, gaze transfixed on a point just above its left upper edge.

Theo of course doesn’t move.

Stiles turns at his soft chuckle, gives him an annoyed look.

“Do you really think you can lift me again? After you almost knocked yourself unconscious?”

“We have to try,” Stiles insists and he’s narrowing his eyes because, oh yes.

He wants to punch Theo in the face _so badly_.

Theo can see it, can almost see the scenario play out in Stiles’ head while he’s looking at him.

But Stiles needs him to get out of here. They need each other, and Stiles is smart, he knows that starting a fight with Theo wouldn’t do anything.

The smartest.

Theo gives him a wide smile, an appreciative nod.

“Okay. But this time I’ll climb onto your shoulders. I doubt your arms could hold me up for even another ten seconds there.”

A gloomy look from Stiles – but then he nods, and turns his back to Theo and Theo –

His heart is beating loudly in his chest and if Stiles were a supernatural creature, he’d turn to him in confusion.

But as it is, Stiles can’t hear it.

He cannot sense Theo’s agitation, he’s just standing there in his dark pants and purple hoodie, back toward him, steadying himself, waiting for two hands to grab his shoulders and a werewolf to climb him like a wooden horse which – oh.

He wants to climb him, Theo.

Mount him.

But in a completely different sense of the word.

He extends his hands and he can feel himself tremble faintly which puts a soft smile on his face.

Tsss, incredible.

When he broke his dad’s neck with one swift, clean movement of his hands?

Nothing.

He didn’t even bat an eye.

This though.

Here he is, trapped in a fucking room with Stiles Stilinski, underground, bathed in neon light and his heart is almost beating out of his chest.

It’s ridiculous.

There’s just _something_ to the amount of trust Stiles is actually showing him right now.

That he’d even turn his back to him like this. It speaks to how desperate he is and Theo, he – finds himself liking it.

Just when Stiles flinches, is about to turn his head to check what’s taking Theo so long, Theo puts his hands onto Stiles’ shoulders.

Doesn’t stop there though.

He steps up to Stiles until his chest is pressed flush against his back and wraps his arms around his shoulders, around his chest. Locks him in a firm embrace.

For a moment they’re just there.

Stiles, immobile and Theo, almost a head shorter than him, with his forehead lowered against Stiles’ shoulder.

Then of course Stiles shakes off Theo’s arms and darts away from him, his heart rate speeding up to match Theo’s.

Theo just puts his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans, a gentle smile on his lips.

Stiles is hugging himself and glowering at Theo with hatred in his eyes.

It’s almost a minute before he can actually speak.

“What the _fuck_ was that?!”

Theo smirks at him and pushes his shoulders up to his ears. He knows that the gesture shows his arm muscles and shoulders to advantage.

“I was cold?”

Stiles is too outraged at that to speak.

“Well, I gave you my sweater,” Theo continues, nodding down at his black t-shirt, “and it’s not exactly a sauna in here which – don’t get me wrong, I actually prefer this to being roasted alive... Besides-”

And he lifts his eyebrows at Stiles.

“Don’t pretend like _you_ never looked at _me_ before.”

“ _What_?!”

“Don’t deny it.”

“ _What the literal fuck_ are you even _talking_ about, dickwad?!”

“Well, if you want me to _spell it out_ to you...” And he advances a few steps in Stiles’ direction. “Two weeks ago, after I saved your and Scott’s asses once again – remember that? And I was kind of drenched in blood and I got rid of my shirt? And your gaze – lingered.”

“You’re fucking delusional.”

Another step.

“From the moment I first showed up at Beacon Hills High-”

“What – are you serious? Do you – oh, my God,” and there’s a look on Stiles’ face as if he just got it. Incredulous and disgusted at the same time. His brown eyes are fixed on Theo, his arms raised as if daring him to come even one step closer.

As if saying, _Do it and I’ll knock you out, I swear, I don’t care if you’re supernatural or not_.

“Is that why you- holy shit, Theo – are you actually that big off a narcissistic asshole to think the whole world wants to suck your dick?”

“Why so vulgar?”

Theo smirks.

He’s now right in front of Stiles who has retreated into one corner of the room and there’s the trademark air of smugness and nonchalance about Theo, as if he just happened on Stiles in a Café or at the beach.

As if they weren’t trapped in here, in this room with grey concrete floor and walls and a huge steel door with a keyhole in it.

“Stay the fuck away from me. If your plan was to creep me out – congratulations, you did it. Now if we could please get back to the important stuff, that is getting the fuck out of here – I’m starting to get hungry.”

“We’ve only been in here for an hour and a half.”

Stiles doesn’t dignify that remark with an answer. He takes a step out of his corner, apparently just means to round Theo and walks back over to the door, over to where they left off, to staring at the mysterious keyhole, or to trying to reach the hidden mechanism Theo seems to have detected.

But of course Theo wouldn’t have that.

Not when he has Stiles right here where he always wanted him.

Because, see?

He only has to reach out to touch him and there’s really nowhere Stiles could go.

No one to hear him either.

It’s perfect.

Except for the trapped-and-left-here-to-die-thing, but, well.

No use to dwell on that right now. Scott and Malia, Tracy and Josh are out there, somewhere and unless they were stupid enough to get trapped as well, they will find them, and Stiles and Theo will be out of here again in no time.

Until then though.

Theo would really hate to waste his time.

He steps in Stiles’ way, preventing him to just walk out of his corner, and when Stiles lifts his hands to shove him out of his way, Theo quickly snatches them.

With one swift movement he has wrapped his hands around both of Stiles’ wrists and then just holds them, as if they were doing a really weird handshake.

“We might die in here, so why not savor being alive as long as we still can?”

Stiles is trying to wriggle out of Theo’s grasp and grits out, “You said we wouldn’t, you piece of – _let go_.”

“Yeah, maybe not. But maybe we will. Who knows what will happen in the future? The only thing I know is that I’m attracted to you. And I know you’re attracted to me.”

Stiles stops struggling and stares at him, open-mouthed.

“I told you, I caught you looking – more than once.”

“ _Fuck you_.”

“You haven’t forgiven me for Malia, mh...”

“Get off of me, you-”

When Stiles kicks him, Theo doesn’t even try to move out of his way – because for that he would have to let him go, yes?

And he really doesn’t want that.

“Nothing happened between us and you know that, but she did start liking me. Yeah, she did... The question is just... were you jealous of _me_ – or jealous of _her_?”

That did it.

Stiles hurls himself at him and Theo releases his wrists so as not to twist them. Stiles is so fragile.

He apparently meant to punch him, but it only takes Theo a few seconds to wrestle him to the ground and pin his arms onto the concrete, left and right of his head.

Stiles’ brown eyes sparkle with anger.

“If looks could kill, mh...”

Theo is towering over Stiles, smiling down at him.

Except for his firm grip on Stiles’ wrists, he’s not touching him.

Not quite yet.

“I’m going to fucking murder you, if we ever get out of here, I’m-”

Theo is watching Stiles’ mouth spitting curses at him and he’s not even really listening anymore. In his defense, it is distracting, the curve of Stiles’ lips, the way they move when he speaks and close around the letters, the p’s and m’s.

Not only distracting, but positively tempting.

Theo shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle that makes Stiles shut up. From the looks of it, he’s too angry to speak which says a lot.

“Look, we’re trapped in here, right? Can’t we be honest with each other once?”

Five seconds of silence during which Stiles stares into Theo’s eyes, and, oh, he’s so mad at him. Furious, livid.

He wants to hurt him, Theo can see it in his eyes.

“Tell me you’re not attracted to me.”

“You _disgust_ me, you _fucking_ piece of-”

Theo rolls his eyes.

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

He’s really trying again now, Stiles.

Struggling against Theo’s grip as hard as humanly possible, and because he’s also kicking him, Theo feels forced to hold him down with his knees as well which makes Stiles even madder.

More desperate, too.

He’s legitimately scared now, Theo can sense it, more than he already has been up to now. Stiles is usually exuding a mixture of fear and agitation, yes – anxiety, stress – but this is different.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” Theo says, frowning down at him. “I promise.”

And he pulls Stiles’ wrists upwards and together, so he can grip them, pin them down using one hand instead of two.

With his left.

So he can let his right hand explore –

Stiles is yelling at him now and his voice is hoarse, but Theo ignores it.

It’s not important.

He’ll shut up again soon enough.

What he’s more interested in now – what he really needs to focus on – is the waistband of Stiles’ pants. It’s not tight-fitted – Stiles must have lost weight during the past weeks – so it’s easy for Theo to slip his finger inside.

One.

Then two.

And a third one.

With his other hand, Theo is pressing Stiles’ wrists down onto his chest now and thus effortlessly holds his whole upper body in place. Then he moves his knees downward and things start becoming a little complicated. After all, Stiles really is the taller one. But Theo is infinitely stronger, so it doesn’t really matter.

“Save your energy, Stiles. It’s no use,” he says and lets his eyes glow yellow, just to remind Stiles that he’s just human and that struggling against Theo is just pointless. He could never overpower him.

Outsmart him, yes. That would be exactly the kind of thing Stiles would do, but here, in this situation?

There’s really nothing he can do.

“You fucking – _bastard_ , I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna – what?”

With a smirk because despite the fact that Stiles keeps moving under him, Theo has managed to slip his whole hand into his pants.

The rest is easy.

Theo can feel a rush of adrenaline when his hand closes around Stiles’ dick and Stiles – just as predicted, he _freezes_. Looks at Theo with his brown cat eyes wide open.

Is it – shock?

Theo can’t tell because he’s too agitated himself now, and his fingers are trembling and he’s sure that Stiles can feel it, feel them tremble when Theo starts _moving_ them, carefully at first.

There’s not much space for him to move either.

Neither of them speaks, but Stiles suddenly flinches and – reacts to Theo’s touch.

A smile creeps onto Theo’s lips and he tips his head up to look Stiles in the eyes again. Stiles starts moving his legs, then his waist and torso, continues struggling against Theo, but it’s too late.

Theo already felt it, is feeling it.

Stiles is hardening under his grip.

“Why don’t you just stop struggling,” Theo grits out because, yes, he has to admit, it’s starting to become difficult, holding Stiles in place.

Not impossible, just a little exhausting.

“Why don’t you – save us both the trouble-”

“Stop,” Stiles whispers, then louder, “Stop. Theo – please...”

Theo could point the obvious out to Stiles – that he won’t, he won’t stop and that, surely, Stiles is aware of that. But he doesn’t say anything.

He’s just staring at Stiles’ face, at his lips and his long lashes and beautiful eyes while he’s jerking him off.

“Why – why are you-”

There’s a sob from Stiles. Then he falls silent.

Has already closed his eyes and Theo?

He knows that he won and that knowledge, it’s ecstasy.

He’s rock hard in his way-too-tight pants and when Stiles finally gives up – gives in – he almost comes then and there.

But – not – yet –

He hesitates, but only for a moment.

Then his mouth is covering Stiles’ whose struggles have become weak. He tries to turn his head away, but Theo is pressing down on his mouth, licks into it hungrily and he can feel Stiles’ resistance fade away.

Then he’s just breathing, letting it happen.

Theo breaks the kiss to be able to watch Stiles’ face. Yes, his strokes are a little too clumsy – his angle really sucks – but Stiles is hard now and he’s keeping his eyes shut, a frown on his face as if he’s concentrated. Lips parted and his breath ragged, hitching in his throat, and he’s –

Beautiful.

Theo stops.

He pulls his hand out of Stiles’ pants.

Then he releases his wrists, slowly, carefully almost.

Now Stiles is just lying there, stretched out on the concrete, a visible bulge in his pants and sweat on his forehead, from struggling against Theo almost to complete exhaustion – and from being turned on, despite himself.

Not a word is spoken between them.

Theo swallows, trying to ignore his own raging hard-on.

He went a little overboard there, yes, wrestling Stiles down and all but raping him is, maybe, a little too much, but, in his defense, how could he keep calm with Stiles just – there for him to take?

Stiles’ eyelids peel back up and a moment later, he is slowly and clumsily pulling himself to a sitting position, hands trembling.

He scoots back a foot so his back connects with the concrete wall and pulls his knees all the way up to his chest, and then he’s just eyeing Theo and trying to catch his breath.

His eyes are so dark.

And Theo?

He watches Stiles for a moment, no smirk on his face this time, no gentle laugh or snide comment, he’s just – out of it.

Breathing, too, but it’s not doing any good.

He’s too far gone, it’s too late.

He has to have him.

He’d meant for Stiles to slowly fall for him, yes?

Somehow.

Warm up to him first and then slowly but surely get rid of his utter disgust – hatred – for Theo. Then learn to trust him and – Stiles looks at boys and girls the same way, alright?

Scott never realized, nor did Malia, but Theo – he always knew.

It’s because he watched him, always has, too, from the very beginning.

But when Stiles continues to look at him right now, his chest heaving from agitation, fear, outrage – but completely mute, for longer than is normal for Stiles Stilinski anyway – Theo can feel this grand scheme, his whole perfect plan, just – _dissolve_.

Stiles’ entire posture signals vulnerability, that he’s trying to shield himself and, somehow, that makes Theo want him even more.

He starts moving, crawling in his direction on all fours, and he’s smooth like a panther, his eyes glowing all wrong, yellow instead of blue despite what he did to his sister, to his parents, to others unrelated to him.

Stiles pulls his knees closer to his chest. It looks like he wants to melt into the concrete wall, but he doesn’t say anything, not a word.

Not even a noise of surprise or shock escapes him when Theo closes the distance between them and just brushes Stiles' knees out of the way, pushes them to the right with his elbow so he can reach Stiles’ face.

His lips.

And then something happens that surprises even Theo, lets him halt in his movement.

Stiles has taken his head all the way back as if to move it out of the way – nothing surprising there – and it’s pressing against the wall, but when Theo’s lips met his, he opened his mouth.

He’s kissing him back and when Theo stops, surprised, Stiles slips his tongue into his mouth.

He has closed his eyes and when Theo grabs his shoulders, presses them against the wall, Stiles doesn’t protest.

Theo scoots close to him, then he’s kneeling in front of him with Stiles’ feet still sort of blocking his way, but it doesn’t matter.

He’s pushing into Stiles mouth and Stiles has lifted his hands and pushes them against Theo’s ripped chest, is holding him at a distance so he can’t hug him, which –

Theo can’t have of course.

He wants to be as close to Stiles as humanly possible so he brushes his hands away, not exactly gently and Stiles is kissing him roughly.

It’s almost like he wants to make Theo _feel_ how much he dislikes him.

But he’s kissing him nonetheless, it’s the oddest situation.

They’re still in the corner of the room, Stiles pressed against the wall, locked together at the mouth and then Theo’s hands find the button of Stiles’ pants and, clumsily, he finally manages to open them.

He feels like wolfing out and simply ripping the fabric off of Stiles’ pale feet, but it’s fine.

Theo can control himself.

For the moment at least.

Then he can feel Stiles finger his, Theo’s, fly, zip it open and unbutton his pants and that’s it for Theo.

Without even changing positions – lying Stiles down on his back for instance – he grabs his pants and yanks them down over Stiles’ hips and off of him. He has to break the kiss for that and he uses the time to catch his breath and quickly peel out of his own pants.

Stiles is still crammed into his corner awkwardly, but none of them seem to care anymore. He’s watching Theo with dark eyes, his lips full and cheeks flushed.

It takes only a few seconds and Theo is back with him again, and again Stiles takes his head back and it hits the wall, as if he’s instinctively trying to get away from him.

Then Stiles’ boxer shorts are being pushed down and – he’s not exactly helping Theo, but he’s not really actively resisting either. It’s almost as if he’s torn between loathing the guy, but really wanting _this_.

And his dick is long and hard. Theo brushes the dark hair around it, is about to reach for it and start jerking him off hard and fast. Make him come groaning and panting all over his purple hoodie, but – no.

Instead, he reaches into the pocket of his own pants – they’re stretching around his knees – and pulls out a small packet. There’s a rustle when he rips it open that makes Stiles pause.

His eyes are clouded and his heart is almost beating out of his chest, Theo can tell, hear, _sense_ , it, but the fact that Theo brought a condom actually makes him pause.

“Really?”

It’s the first thing Stiles has said in what seems like ages and his voice is hoarse.

Theo grins at him mischievously. He pulls the condom out of its black plastic wrapper – it’s red – without hesitation, looks down at his own, pulsating dick and rolls the condom over it.

If he could think straight right now, he’d drop a comment on how he’s been waiting to fuck Stiles into the floor since he saw him again that morning in front of Beacon Hills High.

Stiles might be into boys and girls and whatever, but Theo has only one type.

 _Stiles_.

And when they went tracking the warlord – warlock, what the hell ever – he brought exactly _two things_.

One of which is a condom.

He figured that’s how you do it, even though, personally, Theo couldn’t care less.

All he wants is to be inside of Stiles and he’s pushing his knees apart now roughly.

“Ha... caught you again,” he mutters when Stiles’ gaze flicks down to Theo’s dick.

“Too big for you?”

“Tssss. You _wish_ ,” Stiles says hoarsely and now he’s the one smirking and Theo, _God_.

It makes him – he almost can’t –

His hands are trembling and so are his legs and there’s something like really dense fog in his brain.

“What?” Stiles says and he sounds impatient. “Just do it, _God_.”

And Theo does.

He doesn’t even have the time to admire Stiles’ dick or pause to appreciate the fact that it took only a locked room and about two hours to get Stiles out of his pants, to have him lift his hips from the concrete voluntarily so Theo can reach _it_.

Then he’s kissing him again, but soon has to break away from Stiles’ lips because it’s simply not working. He’s frantically pushing into Stiles, but his dick is not really going inside, not when Theo is agitated and shaking like that.

Stiles arches his hips again and Theo grabs them to hold them still, in place.

Right where he needs them.

It takes all his concentration to position himself at Stiles’ entrance, and then he’s there, in the right place, and pushing in, and that’s it, the tip is in and Theo is working himself into Stiles relentlessly, without even pausing, not really caring whether the condom tears or not. It probably did, it’s all dry down there and his dick is catching on Stiles’ rim, but he’s just pushing in further, admittedly as carefully he can right now, yes, but Stiles still inhales sharply, then grits out a long, pained moan.

And he doesn’t want to hurt Stiles, he really doesn’t, but holy shit.

He’s so tight, Theo feels like losing his mind.

“ _Gnnnn_ – _fuck_!”

Stiles is panting, huffing out pained short breaths, but he’s also clutching Theo’s muscular shoulders, then curls his right hand into his sweat-stained black t-shirt.

And then Theo’s just fucking him.

Stiles is getting slammed hard into the concrete wall with every thrust and he’s panting, breath hitching in his throat and an expression on his face like he’s in a lot of pain, but his dick is still hard and throbbing and pushing into Theo’s abs, into the black t-shirt that has slipped halfway up and revealed his sweaty skin, his blond happy trail.

Theo doesn’t last very long, he starts trembling and grits out a long, throaty moan after less than a minute – and getting there was already tough enough – but he just keeps on pushing into Stiles.

“Ha... _Stiles_ ,” Theo pants out and he wants to say more, tell Stiles that he feels divine, that he’s been wanting to fuck him since he found out what dicks are for, but all he can articulate are breathy moans.

“ _God_ , I fucking _hate_ you,” Stiles mutters, and he’s pulling at Theo’s t-shirt, “so much, you son of a- _aaaaaahgnnn.._.”

Theo closes his right hand around Stiles’ dick and then he’s jerking him off clumsily while pushing into him, rock-hard again. He can feel Stiles’ hole stretching around his dick. It’s slick with Theo’s cum and when he realizes, Theo moans into Stiles’ mouth.

He breaks their kiss and is watching Stiles now, just watching him, fucking into him and watching him because Stiles?

He’s close.

Right on the edge.

A few more strokes and Theo can watch it happen and – it’s almost too much.

Stiles’ lips are swollen and parted and when he comes, his eyes roll back into his head and his hips and legs start trembling.

“Gnn, _Stiles_ ,” Theo moans and when he feels Stiles’ cum shoot up into his hand he can’t go on anymore.

He comes a second time, riding out his orgasm while Stiles is still panting and moaning.

Then it’s over. They’re both spent.

Theo slides out of Stiles who collapses against the wall, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath, sweat running down from his forehead and drenching his hoodie.

Theo didn’t even think of unzipping it. He smiles down at Stiles.

Next time.

“That was a quick and rough fuck,” he says and his voice is raspy.

“No wonder, with a bastard like you,” Stiles mutters, but there’s no venom in his words. On the opposite, he’s smiling – it’s not a gentle or kind smile, but a mischievous one, perfectly fitting for a little shit like Stiles.

A little shit, yeah, but also so fucking _beautiful_ , holy shit.

Theo bends down to kiss him, but Stiles is already half-asleep.

 

 

 

When Stiles opens his eyes again, the first things he sees is Theo’s face hovering over his.

He lifts his head from Theo’s lap – where he’s apparently been lying fast asleep while Theo was watching him like the total creep he really is – and looks around.

For a moment, he seems completely lost, like he doesn’t know where they are and what just happened.

Then an expression settles on his face that tells Theo that he remembered – everything.

It’s a mixture of confusion and resignation.

“You cleaned up around us,” he says and his voice is calm.

He’s keeping his eyes averted to the ground, avoiding Theo’s gaze, the gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah. We made quite a mess. Wiped it up with my grey sweater,” and he nods over to a grey pile of cloth in the corner. The concrete floor is stained there, like someone spilled drops of water on it, which –

They don’t have any water.

From the look on Stiles’ face he seems to realize that it could only be sperm.

His own, mixed with Theo’s and he frowns.

“I put your boxers back on, you were out dead...”

Stiles slowly rises and stretches – his limbs must be stiff from falling asleep on the hard ground – then he reaches down and picks his pants up.

Starts putting them back on.

“How long did I sleep?”

A shrug from Theo.

“No idea, but not too long. A couple of hours maybe.”

Stiles nods, yeah.

Yeah, okay.

A couple of hours and they’re still in here.

Well. Fuck.

No one came to get them, the lights are still on, the door is still locked shut, huge and massive and relentless. A mountain of steel on hinges with a keyhole that is only there to mock them.

“Are we going to talk about....,” Theo starts, his eyebrows lifted.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Stiles says and buttons his pants, still not looking at Theo, not even when Theo jumps to his feet and closes the distance between them.

“You do realize that when we get out of here,” and Stiles doesn’t correct him, doesn’t say _if_ or _how_ , just looks down at the sneakers he never took off, not even when Theo was fucking him into the concrete.

“... I want more of that.”

Stiles never wears skinny jeans and Theo apparently just wrestled them down and off over his shoes the same way Stiles put them on again just now. Pulling at them forcefully, not really caring whether they rip.

“Stiles?”

Theo is touching his fingertips to Stiles’ cheeks and Stiles flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

“Just say it.”

No response.

Theo closes the distance between them, but he doesn’t kiss Stiles even though he really, really wants to. Just forces his head up, makes Stiles meet his gaze.

“I only need a yes.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Theo, I want to keep fucking you. Say it.”

Stiles pulls one edge of his lips up into a crooked smile.

Then he sighs, shakes his head once, as if he can’t believe it.

Any of it.

“Alright. Yeah, whatever. But-”

“Yeah?”

“-but we’ll never get out of here. It must have been hours.”

Then, suddenly, there’s a loud _clonk_ to their right and Stiles jumps.

“Oh, that’s what I wanted to tell you. They’ve been trying to get in here for about an hour. Their last attempt is what woke you up.”

There’s a look of utter amazement on Stiles’ face.

“But apparently you don’t remember that. Okay. At least you remember-”

“You son-of-a-bitch!”

Stiles blinks furiously, flailing his arms.

“You – you let me believe we’re going to die in here when the others have been trying to-”

_Clonk._

_Clonk, clonk._

Stiles pivots and sets off in the direction of the door, but Theo quickly catches his wrist, pulls him back.

“Get out of the way.”

“But – we have to _tell_ them – you can’t _break_ through this door-”

“They’re not trying to break through,” Theo says, shaking his head, “What you hear is the door mechanism. It seems to be really heavy, but it’s working. Hear?”

And they both hold their breath for a serious of small, fainter _clonks_ , followed by a long row of _click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click_.

Then, amazingly, almost impossibly – the door starts moving.

Someone is pulling it open from the outside, and then they can hear Scott’s voice calling out frantically, “Stiles? Stiles! He’s in here, Stiles!”

Then they’re face to face and Stiles is tearing up.

Sure, he’s trying to hide it, but his shoulders are shaking.

Theo fights the urge to pull him close, but no, he can’t, really shouldn’t. It’s not the right time.

Not right now.

Theo can see Scott sniff the air – and then comprehension dawn on his face almost immediately, of course. Scott is an alpha and despite what everyone says, he is usually pretty quick and he seems to get exactly what happened in here because his eyes dart over to Theo, glowering at him darkly, dangerously, and he pulls Stiles close as if to say, _If Stiles didn’t agree to that you’re dead_.

Theo snorts out a soft laugh, shakes his head, then Tracy is with him and he can just barely keep her from hugging him.

She’s sobbing.

Her senses aren’t well developed – plus, she’s a chimera which makes it even more difficult for her to pick up scents – so she’s completely oblivious to anything but her own worry about Theo.

“See, Scott? I told you – our packs work well together,” Theo says, holding Tracy at arm’s length.

Scott just glares at him.

“I was so worried, oh my God, next time you’ll come with me, Theo, not just – walk off with Stiles like that. I would have seen the door, I’m sure I would’ve....”

“You wouldn’t have,” Stiles pipes up and he sounds tired.

He has his back toward Theo.

“When it’s all the way open, it’s almost invisible, don’t ask me why. We thought this is just another tunnel and then – the door slammed shut and the room lit up. Like a fucking scene from _Saw_...”

“Different outcome though,” Theo says grinning, but Stiles doesn’t react.

“It’s really easy to open it from the outside,” Tracy is saying now. She’s inspecting the door. Her fingers brush over the keyhole in the silver surface. “But to get out you need a key, I see.”

“Evidently,” Theo says.

“Come on, buddy, we’ll get the warlock some other day. Most important thing now is to get some food into your stomach. You must be half-starved,” Scott says to Stiles and puts his arm around his best friend’s shoulders.

“More like, I really need water... like, a whole bottle, man,” Stiles says back and they walk out of the room, the trap.

Then, however, he stops and turns back to Theo who’s still just standing there on the concrete, directly below the neon lights, hands in the pockets of his black skinny jeans.

Stiles eyes flick down to Theo’s abs – crotch – then up to Theo’s face again quickly, almost involuntarily, and then Stiles has already turned around again, away, and he says, “Come on, Theo... let’s get out of here.”

Theo smirks.

He starts moving, following the others, following _Stiles_ in particular, but when he’s at the door, his right foot hovering over the edge, he stops.

Puts his foot down.

Turns around.

There, in one corner of the room is his grey sweater.

It’s lying where Theo dumped it, a heap of grey cotton wool with black lettering across the chest, only you can’t read it now, it’s just a grey pile with bits of black on it.

Theo crosses the room, walks over to it, bends down, and picks it up.

It’s really nasty, soaked with the blood from Stiles’ nose and his and Stiles’ sperm and Theo grimaces.

“Almost forgot,” he mutters to no one in particular and reaches into the front pocket.

Takes something out.

Then dumps the sweater back on the floor and quickly crosses the room again, strides back over to the door because someone already called out for him to hurry, two people actually.

Tracy who just said _Theo? Theo!,_ her voice full of worry, panic almost.

And Stiles who yelled something along the lines of _, Come on you jerk, or we’ll leave you down here, I swear_.

Theo smirks, lifts his foot over the edge of the room and this time, he puts it down on the other side, in the dark hallway and he sets off after the others, only stopping one last time to give the steel door two pats.

Then he glances down at the object in his right hand, just briefly before he slides it into the back pocket of his jeans and hurries after the others, after Stiles.

To where Stiles is waiting because Theo?

He knows he is.

Waiting for him, even though he wouldn’t admit it and if Theo pointed it out to him Stiles would probably spit in his face, yeah.

Right, probably, but they’re getting there, yes?

And besides, it’s kind of fun like this, Theo likes it, yes, his boxed games.

 

 

Now, if this were a movie – which it isn’t, but just imagine it were for a moment, yes?

If this were a movie and you took a frame grab – or hit pause, maybe – right when Theo opened his hands and before he put the object away again, okay?

What you’d have seen there would have been a small long-ish thing lying flat on Theo’s palm, silver – the same color as the steel door, the same fabric even, as if, were you to insert it into the tiny slit from the inside, yes?

As if it fit in there like it was _made_ to fit in there, fit in there and then be _turned_ , yes, because being carried out into broad daylight in the back pocket of Theo’s pants?

The other object he brought down to the maze?

A condom, that’s one.

 

 

And a key.

 

 

Just in case.


End file.
